


i fold you into my life

by fleetwoodmactshirt



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Gen, no y/n
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetwoodmactshirt/pseuds/fleetwoodmactshirt
Summary: a serene moment of contemplation and chores.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda & Reader, Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	i fold you into my life

**Author's Note:**

> prompt fill: "the sheets are warm!"
> 
> tumblr: @fleetwoodmactshirt

The still river under the wide sun, the serene landscape, the flawless sky, all seem in silence to be meditating with the Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian watches you both laughing in the distance and your laughter is carried over to him in the breeze, clear and fresh, vivacious and strong, and he feels a warmth bloom in his chest.

Times change and for the better, he reflects, in a rare, peaceful moment, as he sits leaning back against a boulder, his hands momentarily idle for once, but his attentive gaze never wandering from where you stand at a distance with the child.

The tips of his long, pointed ears are just visible above the tall stalks of grass. The child shuffles through the grass chasing some spiny creature with determination. You scoop his small frame up before he can pounce, and chuckle at the disappointed flop to his ears at having his plan foiled. But his ears are soon again perked with delight at the joy of being air-born, tossed skyward, and landing safely in your waiting arms.

It would have been a startling sight, if anyone had chanced to see it; the aged but powerful ship of the galaxy’s most notorious and fearsome bounty hunter, landed on a verdant knoll by a river, a thick cord pulled taut across from where one end is tied to one of the blaster cannons to the other, tied to a pole jammed into the ground. Laundry, crisp and clean, hangs from the line and rustles in the summer breeze.

Such a domestic task was as necessary now as the maintenance of his weapons. Although he would have been loathe to admit it, the hard truth was that as diligent as the Mandalorian was about the care of his weapons, his ship, and his armor, other simple tasks, like assuring that his bedding was kept fresh, had tended to fall to the wayside.

His comfort had never been a priority, and if he was being honest it still wasn’t. At least, not his comfort anyway.

His mind wanders to the thought of the child, sleeping amidst a nest of fluffy, fresh blankets, in the weapons crate they’ve repurposed as a cradle. His mind wanders further, to the image of you in your bunk, illuminated by the soft glow of a tiny lamp you’ve rigged to hang above your head, holding a book aloft, cozily nestled in clean sheets-

“The sheets are warm and dry!” Your voice startles the Mandalorian from his reverie. His helmet tilts in your direction, where you stand under the laundry line, waving him over, a basket propped on your hip.

The Mandalorian raises himself up swiftly, apologizing to you for his inattention. You tsk softly at him, unbothered. You won’t begrudge him a moment’s idle rest; it’s hard earned and you know it.

The two of you stand in front of the hanging laundry.

With an unspoken dynamic, together you make swift work of unpinning the sheets and blankets, and a few of his tattered capes, and folding them into the basket.

You stand apart from one another, stretching the larger sheets out between you, smoothing the wrinkles, before bridging the distance and bringing the two ends to meet between your bodies, your fingertips touching his gloved ones briefly where they meet at the corners.

Two partners completing a simple task in a fluid dance of meticulous motions.


End file.
